Redundant
by Cyranothe2nd
Summary: Sherlock nearly gets himself killed. John gets angry. They both say things they might later regret.


**Title: **Redundant

**Author:**

**Pairing: **Sherlock/John

**Rating: **PG-13 for sexuality and swearing

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the boys, I just play with them.

**Summary: **Sherlock nearly gets himself killed. John gets angry. They both say things they might later regret.

* * *

"You're angry with me."

"Damn right I am," John turned in the cab to glare at Sherlock. "You go haring off to god knows where and get yourself nearly killed. And did you once think of calling me? Oh-ho no, not the great Sherlock Holmes…" The cab pulled up and John stepped out, still going on, "…just like the Blind Banker case." He saw Sherlock snort at the name and open his mouth to say something snarky, no doubt, but John beat him up the steps, wrenched the door open and slammed it back in Sherlock's face.

He clumped up the stairs, fury fueling his movements until each was short, economized. He'd nearly lost Sherlock tonight. It had been a close thing, closer even than Moriarty. Not that Sherlock cared, of course. Oh no, to him it was all a lark…

Sherlock's body interrupted John's pacing.

"What was I to do?" Sherlock continued as if there hadn't been a pause while he was forced to pick his own lock. "Phone you up during the robbery? Is that _really_ why you're so angry or could it possibly be that you feel redundant?"

"Redundant?" John sputtered. Too close to truth but not for the reasons Sherlock obviously meant.

"Oh yes," Sherlock's face folded into an ugly smile and John braced himself because they were really out to hurt each other now. "Hero Johnny doesn't get to save the day. You know, I expect it from Lestrade and his ilk but really John, jealousy is so unbecoming."

"Jealousy?" John was _this_ close to punching the grin off Sherlock's face. He balled his shaking hands but opted to do it with words instead."For fuck's sake, Sherlock! You want to hear it? You're smart, brilliant in fact. But it doesn't mean that I want to _be _you."

They were nearly nose to nose now and Sherlock made a scoffing noise that boiled John's blood and made him step over the line he'd been so careful never to cross before. "You know what your problem is?"

"Enlighten me," Sherlock said, all lazy consonants and deep-voiced disdain.

"You pretend you don't care and you lock yourself away because you're scared to really do what you want to. You know you could call me and I would be there but it means you'd have to care and you can't do that." John stepped away, finally seeing the look on Sherlock's face, open and, for just a moment, honestly hurt. _Point for me_, he thought grimly and threw the last words over his shoulder. "You're a coward."

He turned on his heel and left Sherlock there, stomping back down the stairs, scooping up the coat he'd forgotten in his haste before, when he'd got the call from Lestrade. No doubt Sherlock would lock him out as revenge for earlier—really he could be so petty—but John didn't care. He had to get out of the flat before his itching hands made contact with Sherlock's body and he did something he'd really regret—

Sherlock caught him on the last step and spun him with a rough jerk of his hand to John's shoulder.

"Coward?" The word came out all breathless and wrong and Sherlock's face was too close and he was flushed and John opened his mouth to tell him to get his hands off, couldn't he see that it was dangerous? And, oh god, Sherlock swooped in and kissed John full on the mouth and John's brain couldn't catch up, couldn't find a segue between their row and this. But Sherlock kept on kissing, kissed as if his whole life depended on it and John had always wondered what it would be like if Sherlock let him emotions off the leash and now he knew and _ohfuckyes!_

John tangled his hand in Sherlock's hair and kissed him back. The heat of Sherlock's mouth and the coldness of his nose against John's cheek were making him shiver and Sherlock felt it, lips curling in a smile and they paused for breath. John huffed out a little laugh.

"Guess you win the fight," he said, his voice shaky and strained to his own ears.

Sherlock bent and traced the outline of John's ear with his tongue. John moaned and arched into him. "Guess I do," Sherlock answered and took John's hand, pulling him upstairs.


End file.
